


I don't want to talk right now

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: After the Flames [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Questionable Uncle-ing, questionable parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 19:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Celebrimbor doesn't want to talk, but then again, neither does Amras.(In which Celebrimbor has a fight with his father, and Amras tries to make it alright._





	I don't want to talk right now

**Author's Note:**

> I stumbled across this in my drafts. I initially wrote it several years ago, back when I was writing more consistently in the "After the Flames" series, but I decided to edit it and upload it. 
> 
> There are references to an event from [Fell and Fey Become](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3806308), but you don't need to have read it.
> 
> This takes place during the time that Maedhros is in Angband and Maglor is the Regent King.

“Go away,” Celebrimbor muttered, leaning his head back against the smooth wood of the door. “I don't want to talk right now.”

The knocking continued, with enough force that it shook Celebrimbor where he was leaned against it.

His eyes snapped open with frustration. “Go away!” he shouted, looking over his shoulder to glare daggers at the door. “Father! I said I don't want to talk!”

The person at the door paused, then kept knocking. Celebrimbor stood turned, grabbing the door handle, unlocking it, and wrenching it open. “I said-“

He stopped at the sight of his youngest uncle, flinching away from him, clearly frightened by the loud sounds and harsh words. “Hello Uncle Amras,” he said, his voice dropping back to its usual tone, “I thought you were your brother.”

Amras nodded mutely.

“Do you need something?” Celebrimbor asked carefully. Despite being similar in ages and having grown up together under the same strange circumstances, he had never understood the twins before, and since the burning of the ships, he understood the remaining one even less.

Amras merely held out his hand, offering Celebrimbor a bottle.

The smith raised an eyebrow and stepped aside to allow Amras entrance into his room, shutting the door securely behind him. The red-haired elf sat at the small table, folding up his long legs, and set the bottle on the table in front of him. “I heard your argument,” he said, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

“Oh?” Celebrimbor flushed, moving to his beside his uncle. “Were we loud?” Of course, they didn’t need to be loud to be heard. The walls of their new settlement were thin (in fact, Celebrimbor thought that calling it a building was an insult to buildings, but it had a roof and four walls).

“We all heard you,” he said, watching his nephew with concerned, if slightly unsettling and unfocused, eyes. “I thought you might like to relax.” He nodded to the bottle.

“Ah.” He frowned for a moment, looking between his uncle and the bottle. “You want me to get drunk?” he clarified. It was, with all honesty, a kind offer.

“If you want to get drunk, someone needs to keep an eye on you,” he replied.

Celebrimbor nodded, smiling a little. “Alright, I'll get us glasses.”

Amras frowned at the suggestion, shaking his head quickly, as though the thought disgusted him. “Glass. None for me.”

Celebrimbor stood and walked to the small cabinet at the end of his room, where he stashed various things, including a few mugs. He took out two, then made to put one back, asking, “You don't want anything?”

“Forbidden,” he explained quickly, then dropped his voice and mumbled, “no need to upset Kana.”

“Uncle Kana won't let you drink?” He paused, looking over his shoulder, fingers dancing over the mugs.

“I start-“ he frowned, “I start talking to people who aren't there.” Tears had begun to gather in his eyes, and he hiccupped.

Celebrimbor winced, wishing he hadn't asked. “Oh. Uh. Sorry.” He grabbed the mug and hurried to sit beside his uncle. “You don't need to do this.”

“Will it make you feel better?”

“Maybe, I don't know.”

“Then it's worth trying.” Amras poured the liquid into Celebrimbor’s mug. “Drink up.”

Celebrimbor smiled and took a long drink.

* * *

Maglor glanced up from his work at the sound of a shout, just to time to see Amras hurrying after Celebrimbor, who seemed incapable of walking in a straight line. He sighed, setting aside his papers and standing to give chase, hoping he could handle whatever was happening before Curufin saw them.

It wasn’t hard to catch up to them, they weren’t moving very quickly. Celebrimbor was just shambling along and Amras was trailing behind him, pulling at his sleeve in a desperate attempt to get him to pay attention as he pleaded with him, “Come back! Back. Tyelpe! Back!”

“Telufinwe?” he asked, watching them with a raised eyebrow. “Is he drunk?”

To his credit, Amras did look embarrassed. “Maybe,” he whispered. “No. Yes.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No drinks for Ambarussa,” he promised, still pulling futilely at Celebrimbor’s sleeve.

Maglor simply grabbed his nephew, wagering on his inebriated state, and easily stopped him from wandering farther. “Need to talk,” Celebrimbor muttered, with a single-minded determination that could only be managed by someone very, very drunk (or someone who was descended from Feanor). “Need to find my father.”

Maglor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Telvo-“ He didn’t need to ask what was going on, he simply knew that letting Celebrimbor talk to his father at the moment was a disaster waiting to happen.

“Let’s just get Tylpe back to his room before Curvo finds us.”

It wasn’t too difficult to get Celebrimbor to go with them. Maglor easily convinced him that Curufin was waiting for him (and his nephew was drunk enough that it didn’t even take any of his song magic).

Getting Celebrimbor to stay in his room was a bit more difficult, but Maglor managed to use a touch of his power to get the other to listen to him, commanding him into bed and to try to sleep it off.

Then he locked the door from the outside.

It wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with his drunk nephew (and, judging by Amras’ face, he had plenty of other things to deal with).

Amras leaned against the wall beside Maglor. “I thought it was for the best,” the younger elf said softly.

“Oh, I do not envy him the hangover he's going to have,” Maglor moaned. “Poor child.”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

Sighing the musician wrapped an arm around his brother. “Telvo I- you- why?”

“I thought it would help?”

Maglor couldn’t help but let out a soft snort of laughter. “By getting him roaring drunk?”

“That's what you did.”

“I have never gotten him drunk! I've let him drink, but he's an adult, he can do that. But Telvo, he was so drunk I-“

“You and Nelyo gave me wine,” he whispered.

“Oh, Telvo!” he gasped. “Do you think we got you drunk?”

He shrugged. “I'm not certain,” he confessed.

Maglor sighed and sat down, pulling his brother to sit beside him. “Telvo, I-” he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, instead wrapping his arm around the other. Not for the first time, he felt a pang in his chest and wished Maedhros was there to help. “We just gave you something to help you sleep is all.”


End file.
